WritesNaughtyStories

Fuck, lest the killing spree resume. I'd marry you, but then you'd be a bigamist.

Fuck. Because it's so worth coming back for. Or is it back door? Love ya'

Marry. All this pointless killing is getting out of hand, and you're not listening to me anyway - might as well make it official. Bonus, fate worse than death....

Kill, because killing the necROMANCER who made Rose immortal and ageless is dumb, on lots of levels, but you might cum back...

Fuck, because that was the whole point of resurrecting her in the first place. Have to work the steps people, now she immortal and ageless. You're welcome.

It's EcchiDreams. He's going to cry if that pretty little cunt doesn't get stuffed, and we hate to see a pussy boy cry.

Kill. Because it's Hallowe'en and the perfect time to put the ROMANCE in necROMANCEr. Welcome back, my best ghoul.

Magda offered Emily a sheepish smile. "Maybe a bit more." She giggled, rubbing one hand over her cum-slicked thigh and the drying smear on her close-cropped scalp, "but in a good way." She watched the younger woman make her way to the door, rocking her head to one side as she tried to shift gears back to Fire Base Commander mode. Then Emily saluted. Magda tried to keep the sudden hurt from showing on her face, but couldn't. It felt like Emily was acknowledging an unsavory order, and the little yelp of hurt surprise escaped her lips before she could choke it off. The commander closed her eyes and took a long slow breath, trying to set aside her unreasonable reaction. Lt, Kehrer probably meant nothing by it. She'd given more of herself to become the pilot she was than anyone on the team. Maybe anyone in the Union. Magda exhaled slowly, massaging her scalp as she tried, again, to shift her thoughts to their plan to rescue the Hive's sacrificial lambs. She pushed herself off the desk with a sigh and made her way to the small crate that acted as her wardrobe. She grabbed a new tank top, a pair of panties and a towel, all in colors so old and faded they looked gray. Captain Payarkoon counted to 15 to give Emily time to avoid her and walked out of her door toward the showers. She dumped her kit on the metal bench and stepped into the chemical spray and sluiced off the evidence of her rendezvous, scrubbing herself with her bare hands, //Shall I move us off to prepping for the attack?

I am still here lurking.

Guilty, but only in the most technical way - an idea, yes. Any discipline or energy to even rough out an outline, not at the moment (or any of the moments for the last 30 years). Next poster thinks that if I quit fucking around on the internet writing porn, the novel might have a better chance.

Guilty. Visually a Prince Albert is gorgeous. Equally stunning, and more enjoyable in practice, a vertical clit hood piercing, Labia piercings and scrotal chain-mail are, striking but not in the same way. Nostril rings are pretty good on everybody, but a septum piercing never looks good. Next poster paints - miniatures, water color, pastels - whatever, for enjoyment.

Guily-ish. I am a huge proponent of Talk Like A Pirate Day on September 19th. I have a blousey-sleeved linen shirt with colored stitching that I adore, but the family does not like at all. On the 19th, it comes out, and "Ahoy, maties - turn-to, trim the mizzen and haul the pogey onto the deck!" They are convinced I've lost my mind. They're lucky we're landlocked or I'd keelhaul 'em! Next poster has a piece of clothing they love to wear but have nowhere to wear it to.

1Not guilty. AI is a tool, it has potential to go sideways, and it may, but it also has potential to be turned into another corporate profit center that has all the points filed off. Next poster has an irrational hatred of a film associated with one holiday or another.

A light kick thudded into the back of Lookmee's calf. "Quit goofing around - you have a fight in three weeks, and it's not with her." Lookmee watched the pretty young woman walk into the office with a wink and a smile and then turned to face Nuehowlek, "No. I'm not fighting her." The trainer gave a slightly annoyed nod in agreement, and Lookmee grinned in reply, "But she did wave." "Lookmee! Focus." Nuehowlek groaned. Lookmee glanced back toward the new girl but the office door was closing, so the fighter turned back to her trainer. "I'm on it. Relax." Nuehowlek shook his head, "No. My name and the gym's name are on the line when you fight." "Mines not?" "You're the creeping on the new girl." He waved her forward. Lookmee advanced, her foot work careful and quick. She measured her steps, remembered to step to the outside of Nuehowlek's power. He tried to correct, but Lookmee cut his angle again. "I wasn't creeping." "Yo-" She flipped a quick jab, and Nuehowlek moved to cover. Lookmee saw the opening and kicked. Nuehowlek skittered back, out of range of the kick, but Lookmee followed. "Pressure, that's it." He said, angling to blunt her advance. They continued for another 5 minute of hard pad work, until both fighter and trainer were panting. The corner clapped to signal the end of a round and the pair stopped. "Good." Nuehowlek said. "At last, some real work." He started unbuckling his pads and glared at Lookmee. "I want that all day tomorrow." He jerked a thumb behind him, "For now, go get cleaned up, you've got your beginner class to teach in 15 minutes. Afterwards, don't forget the videos I sent you - I want you to be ready for Priya, ok?" Lookmee nodded, bowed politely to her trainer, thanked the corner trainer and headed to the locker room to take a quick shower before teaching for an hour. As she walked she looked around for the new girl. She was really pretty, and had waved - she might be into girls, right?

Guilty. In one capacity or another I've been involved in Shipping and Receiving since the first Gulf War. It is rarely exciting, never sexy and, at this point, exceedingly rate that I see something new. However, it leaves me free to write porn on the internet. Next poster manages social media for their employer.

Not fucking guilty. As much of a fan of music as I am, I appear to have no talent for it at all. Like none. What none existent gains I have made at guitar have come incredibly hard. Years in the making, and I still cannot move from one chord to the next. I cannot carry a tune even if you weld non-slip handles to it. Next poster is a skilled musician.

Not guilty. I have one, massive ADD playlist that has been haphazardly compiled over about a decade. It has everything except opera, and it's always on random and it's on from 9:30 in the morning to 7 at nigh,t 5 days a week. Next poster has no use for streamed music.

Lookmee slipped to her left. Left foot first, then right, never too far apart, hands up protecting her face. She scraped quickly at her eye with her forearm as sweat threatened to run into her eye. The trainer's padded shin crashed into the left side of her rib cage - exactly where her elbow should have been. The leanly built fighter exhaled suddenly, but swung her arm over the padded leg and held it. Her right leg flashed out and kicked her trainer's standing leg out from under him. Nuehowlek tumbled to the mat with a thud and a grunt. Her limbs were dark and lean, her dark hair braided tightly to her skull and her warm, brown eyes predatory as she reset. Nuehowlek waved her off. Lookmee made her way to the corner for water while he picked himself up. "Not a bad counter, Lookmee," he said as he got to his feet, "but an opponent won't be wearing pads." He banged the pad on his shin for emphasis. "Can't fight blind." She replied, leaning on the ropes as another trained handed her a water bottle. As she drank she saw a nervous looking young woman come in with an older man, in a nice watch and shiny, expensive looking shoes. "No. But make sure you don't open yourself - a bare shin in the ribs hurts. You might not be able to counter." Lookmee nodded and pointed with her water bottle. "Who's the new girl?" Nuehowlek shook his head in annoyance. "This is a gym, not a dating service." She handed the water bottle back to the other trainer and waved the new girl over. She gave Nuehowlek a quick glance over her shoulder, before turning back to smile at the girl, "What's the difference?" She asked with a bright smile on her face.

Guilty. Many times. I was lucky enough to see Nureyev in The Nutcracker at Radio City Musical Hall. Next poster has seen the opera Der fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman).

That works really well, that way Lookme has a little respect around the gym and can fight a little if anyone really pushes Sonia too hard. Shall we move it over to the Rpleplays thread? I can start us off with Lookme seeing Sonia come in (with her father?) looking very nervous (and super cute).

OK. I can work with that. I'd kind of had it in mind that my character (for now we'll call her Lookme) was a competitive fighter, but they can both be relatively new students (though, due to site rule changes both must be 18).

I like it. Does your character end up (start) as my character's student? Or do they make eyes at each other across the gym first?

Not guilty. I hung around in boxing gyms from the time I was 7 until I was 40 or something. I've been to all kinds of boxing matches from inter-gym contests to profession bouts. I've been to two regional MMA events but never professional wrestling. Next poster has been see Monster Jam or some other monster truck rally/competition. (I am guilty of this - I took my kids more than once)

As someone who puts tajin on popcorn, I'm going say, "Not weird." and add a not guilty plea. I do put tajin on almost all fruit that I eat too (not berries - doesn't work at all) and I spice my coffee. Neither are super common but don't seem weird. Speaking of Beavis and Butthead, next poster both remembers and loves Celebrity Deathmatch.

Amen, my sister in OTC stimulants! Coffee and tea throughout the day. Even white tea at night. Next poster gets their caffeine in a canned energy drink.